Friendly Competition
by Sakrea
Summary: There's nothing wrong with a bit of friendly competition between friends. Blurr/Drift, Warning: slash, sticky, mech on mech. Do not read if you do not like.


"Need a hint?"

One blue hand shot up, palm out to stop the other mech's words. The other hand pinched his chin, optics narrowed in concentration.

Drift's mouth lifted in amusement as he watched him. He hadn't expected the other to take him up on his offer, he was too proud for that. So he was forced to wait.

"Just give me a klik. I got it." Blurr murmured, leaning intently over the hologram in front of him.

"Take your time." Drift replied, sitting back in his seat.

And he did. Blurr was still for a long time, optics flickering this way and that as he went over his options. Judging by the slowly growing frown on his face, none of them looked good.

Finally, the mech raised a blue hand, moving it over his game piece. He hesitated then, glancing up at Drift as if looking for a distraction. "What's this game called again?"

Drift graced him with a lazy smile. "Go."

"I know, but what's it called?" Blurr asked again.

"The game's called Go." Drift told him, optics twinkling in amusement.

"Oh." Blurr held his gaze for another moment before turning his optics back on his game piece. Resigning himself to his decision, he moved the holopiece forward one spot.

Drift mercilessly jumped his piece across the board, leaving no survivors. "I win."

Blurr's optic ridges pulled together in confusion, staring at the massacre that was the board. "You did?" he asked.

Drift chuckled softly, a light, harmonious sound that seemed uncharacteristic of an ex-Decepticon. "Yes." He replied. "Maybe I didn't explain it well enough."

Blurr frowned at him from across the board. "No, I just need more practice." He sighed. "Tactical games aren't usually my thing."

"We could play something else." Drift suggested casually. "Something requiring fast reflexes?"

A fierce look suddenly came over Blurr's face. "No, not until I beat you at this."

Drift smirked, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. "We may be here a while."

Blurr made an offended noise and reset the holoboard.

"Now that just isn't—_Oooh….Primus._"

"Isn't what?"

"F-Fair! _**Frag it**__,_ Blurr! Do that again…!"

The blue mech tilted his head to the side, a lecherous smirk dominating his face. "Not until you say it."

Drift gave a soft whine of protest, pressing his helm into the berth. "You win…!" he panted, optics dim with forcibly contained lust. He pressed his hips upward into his lover's, struggling to make somekind of contact.

Blurr's optics shimmered, using his free hand to press the white hips back into the berth, making sure to brush his fingers ever so briefly across the silver-rimmed valve. Drift gave a soft cry below him, trying futilely to renew the touch, his arms straining against the blue hand that continues to hold his limbs captive above him.

"Blurr…!" he gasped. "_**Please!**_"

The racer dipped a single finger into his eager partner's valve, teasing only a single pleasure node before he withdrew. "How many times have I won…?" Blurr asked, voice low and mocking.

Another frustrated cry, the ex-con grinding his helm into the berth under him. "Three…!" he whimpered. "Please, Blurr!"

Blurr's hand drifted across the white mech's pelvic plating, his fingers ghosting over seams and crevices in the armor, searching for a weak spot he knew was there. "And how many times have you won…?" he prompted softly, rubbing his thumb over a small, delicate sensor.

Drift released a long, sultry moan, optics flickering with the strain of his overheated systems. "None…" he panted, struggling with the words.

"Exactly." Blurr purred, slipping his head down to lave his glossa across Drift's taut neck cables. The mech only arched his neck back, trying his best to give the other better access to the delectable expanse of cabling.

Drift bit down on his lip, trembling as his lover only continued to tease him, leaving him hanging just on the edge. "I'm so close…! Please…!" he groaned, his voice strained.

Blurr rumbled against the cabling, causing his captor to gasp in pleasure. "Well I suppose I have to…" he murmured, scraping his denta lightly across the gray metal before withdrawing completely.

Optics dimmed, Drift looked both relieved and desperate, his entire chassis trembling with built up energy. His cooling fans buzzed beneath his plating, doing little to stem the heat rising from his plating.

On the other hand, Blurr didn't seem even a touch charged up, despite the trembling, pliable mech beneath him. After all, his body was built to deal with excess strain and energy, pushing it from his systems harmlessly without requiring any extra… Services.

Blurr circled the tips of his fingers along the valve's rim once more, allowing himself a moment to enjoy the soft keens of the mech beneath him coupled with a nearly unintelligible plea. Only then did he penetrate the opening, delving not one, not two, but three fingers into the slick, weeping valve. The walls closed tight around the digits, squeezing and clenching onto them desperately as they slid in, then retreated back out.

Drift released a sharp, frantic cry at the motion, his hips bucking as he tried desperatly not to lose the stimulation.

With a dark, teasing chuckle, Blurr thrust his fingers back into his lover's valve, making sure to set off every pleasure node as he did.

For the fourth time that night, Drift screamed out in overload and for the fourth time that night, Drift drank it all in. Every gasping moan, every shuddering movement, every muscle clenching around his digits, every sensual sight was his ambrosia. It was all so delicious. What did it matter that his own interface array remained untouched that night? All he needed was that sensuous body beneath his and the pure spirit of competition.

When Drift's optics flickered back online, radiating a soft azure in his post overload haze, he was once more met one of Blurr's smug smiles.

"I win again."


End file.
